I trudge up to my room, waving off the maid whose sole purpose is apparently to wait on me hand and foot—the cushy life I’ve been given at Aisling is more luxurious than anything I ever would have had in my tiny rundown apartment in the city. But a big fluffy bed and as much food as I can eat has come at a cost. Thanks to my magic and my guardians, now I’m not even sure if Drew will ever even talk to me again.
I know I should be grateful, but it’s pretty fucking hard right now. Protecting Drew is the only reason I’m still here—not that Xander and Nico seem to care.
At least, I guess, the luxury of my new room at Aisling means that I have a comfortable place to fume.
I open the door to my room and consider filling up the bathtub. Hell, I could probably even call the maid up to fill it for me. All I really want to do right now is sink into the water and shut off for a while. The day has been too long, my energy is waning, and there’s too much shit in my head to do anything but lay back and zone the fuck out until morning.
But when I enter my room, every chance of a relaxing bath and a good night’s sleep goes right out the fucking window.
“Good evening, Rory.” Dr. Belmont uncrosses her ankles and rises from the foot of my bed, her red lips smoothing into her polite little smile. “How was your day?”
“Better before I realized that you have a key to my room.” I brush past her and sit down on the bed to take off my shoes, but she stops me before I can.
“Not so fast, Rory. The day isn’t over yet.”
I look up at her with a weary gaze, then glance at the darkness beyond my room’s massive windows. “The sun says otherwise,” I say with a shrug.
“Why don’t we have a little moonlit stroll, then?”
Judging by the look in her eyes, it’s not a suggestion.
It’s an order.
Outside, the dark seems still and comforting. It’s an odd feeling, considering that for most of my life up to this point, I wasn’t allowed out at night. But there are no curfews in Aisling, apparently. At least, not with Dr. Belmont by my side.
“You’ve been a busy girl today, Rory.” Dr. Belmont says it idly, like she’s making polite conversation, but I know her well enough to know that it’s anything but.
“You told me to train with my guardians. I’ve been training.”
“And exploring, too, it seems.”
My conversation with Ryker earlier flashes through my mind. I cast a suspicious glance at Dr. Belmont while we move through the gardens outside of the dorms, knowing that she knows. “Is that not allowed?”
“On the contrary, Rory, I might encourage it. It’s good for you to know what happens to those who refuse to work with the Regime to best utilize their powers.”
“I thought you people just removed magic from people who don’t want to work with you. Isn’t that what you told me when I signed your stupid contract?”
Dr. Belmont makes a small sound that, in some other universe, might qualify as a laugh. “So I did. But given an individual with sufficient ability, it’s often in our best interest to bide our time. It’s fascinating the way a few days’ time can lead a person to reconsider our offer.”
“A couple of years in an underground prison cell, you mean.”
Dr. Belmont looks nonplussed. “Some people need more time than others.”
“What about Cassandra?”
“Who?”
“The girl you still have locked up in Eastwatch. Is that what she’s doing right now? Considering your offer.”
Dr. Belmont makes the laugh noise again. “Eastwatch is another matter entirely, Rory. The Regime doesn’t extend offers of help to those who can’t help themselves.”
Everything about Dr. Belmont sets off a billion red flags in my head. I’ve never met someone so cold like this—so closed off. Every time I talk to her, I feel like she’s reading me like an open fucking book, and every time she talks to me it’s like reading a book in a dead language. She betrays nothing that she doesn’t want me to pick up on, and more often than not, what she does end up telling me raises more questions than it does answers.
For a fleeting moment, I wish Nico was here—before I remember how pissed off I am at Nico right now, anyway. He might be an ass, but the handle he has on his powers is incredible—and now that I think about it, incredibly useful. Someone like him could warm up Dr. Belmont’s icy little heart—and then I might actually get real information out of her instead of just riddles and Regime lies.
“So what are we out here for, anyway?” I try to remember the way Nico says things to me when he wants me to feel a certain way—friendly. Unassuming. Warm. The summer night is tepid, with a gentle breeze plucking at my shirt and hair, but being anywhere near Dr. Belmont feels ice fucking cold. If I want to do what Nico does, I need to start thinking warmer thoughts. “You never struck me as a moonlit stroll kind of gal, Dr. B.”
This time, her laugh almost sounds like a laugh. “Not enjoying our little chat, Rory?”
“Oh, no. I am.” Come on, Rory. Drop the sarcasm… “I’m just wondering if we’re out here to braid each other’s hair and tell secrets about boys, or if there’s a reason we’re wandering around in the dark.”
Shit. This is going to be harder than I thought.
“There’s something I want to show you,” Dr. Belmont finally admits. Maybe I’m dreaming, but I do feel like she’s warming up to me a little bit. “You have power, Rory. Power beyond anything that your guardians can channel or even fathom. I thought now that you’ve had a taste of it from Xander and Nico, you might like to experience what it’s like to use a magic of your own.”
As much as I don’t want to like Dr. Belmont, I can’t pretend it’s not an attractive offer. Apart from my glowing palms—and as I try to push feelings of openness and trust onto Dr. Belmont, they’re glowing even now—I have no idea yet what I can actually do. I can feel the energy bubble up inside me, and tired as I am, it feels like it only grows stronger and stronger as we walk deeper into the night. But what I was doing with Xander and Nico felt like party tricks compared to the magic that I can feel coursing through my veins.
I want to learn. Even if it’s only on Dr. Belmont’s terms. From the sounds of things, she’s the only trained witch in all of Aisling. Maybe the only trained witch left.
Magical beggars can’t be magical choosers, I guess.
“I’d like that,” I admit, and I think I see her lips part into an actual, honest-to-god genuine smile.
“You’re a lot like your mother, you know.” We’re moving out toward the rose fields where I laid with Nico yesterday. “She was stubborn too. Sarcastic. Difficult to win over, but if you were able to, she was always good to have by your side in a fight.”
I feel my eyebrows raise. “You were friends with my mom?”
“Something like that.” There’s a tinge of regret in her voice. “For a while. We were here at Aisling together. Your friend Drew’s mother, too. It’s funny…” She looks out over the rose field, almost like she’s searching for something. “It was a simpler time back then. We were all caught up in our own quests for knowledge and self-discovery. Magic…” She waves her hand like she’s brushing a sad memory away. “It wasn’t like this, Rory. Aisling was full of witches and guardians and teachers and mentors, not Regime officers and soldiers.”
I blink, surprised. The air of coldness is gone from Dr. Belmont now and in its place, I feel a strange connection that only strengthens as she speaks.
“What changed?” I ask.
She sighs. “The times. Your mother was always particularly good at ritual magic, I remember.” She changes the subject so fluidly I almost don’t notice I’ve touched on something better left undiscussed. “Every witch uses her magic a little differently, you know. Accesses a different vein of power. You’ve seen how the new witch has her guardian wrapped around her little fingers, I’m sure.”
Dr. Belmont shoots me a wry smile and chuckles. To my surprise, I find myself laughing with h
er.
“Abra does seem to have an…effect on men,” I admit.
“She channels her magic through her sexuality,” Dr. Belmont explains. “When she was first brought here, I was certain your Nico would be the one for her—they operate in similar ways, believe it or not. I didn’t give him enough credit—your influence has proven him to be more complex than he was letting on.” She laughs again, rolling her eyes. “And I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Abra imprint on the first man to cross her path.”
Something that feels a lot like jealousy flares up in me when she suggests Nico and Abra might have worked well together. I’m obviously more possessive than I thought. It makes me realize that I might be being too harsh on Nico and Xander for the way that they were treating Drew. Everything between us all is so new, and there’s no way they could imagine how much Drew means to me yet. Not to mention that they each have to share me with four other men…if they feel anything for me like what I just felt, I can actually see where they were coming from now.
“So Abra’s powers are sexy magic. What about mine?”
“It depends, Rory. What do you want?”
Less than a week ago, that wouldn’t have been a hard question for me. But now, try as I might, it’s more difficult than I thought it would be. My Awakening ripped me from my boring, meaningless existence and hurled me into a binding contract with fate. Ever since, what I want hasn’t even been a fucking footnote. My life—my powers—even my fucking soul mates, all five of them—have all been completely out of my control. Other people get to make choices based on their wants and needs. But Rory Bright? Rory Bright has to smile and nod and come to terms with the fact that out of the five fucking soul mates she’s supposed to have, fate couldn’t even throw her a bone and allow one of them to be the only man who’s ever been there for her.
Part of me wants to explore all of this. Everything that’s been pushed onto me and everything that I never asked for.
Part of me just wants my old, simple life back.
“I want to make my own choices,” I say finally. “I want to be allowed to want.”
“You want to be free,” Dr. Belmont corrects me.
“I guess so.”
Dr. Belmont softens for a moment and bends down to pluck a rose from the field before us. There’s something gentle, almost motherly about her, as she places it in my hand. But the gesture doesn’t soften what she says next:
“What a dangerous thing to want.”
Dr. Belmont bends down again to pluck a rose for herself. There’s a heavy sadness in the way that she does it, like she’s remembering things she would rather not. It makes me feel bad—not just because there’s this connection still reverberating between us, but because I wrote her off so quickly as such a cold-hearted bitch when we first me. Now, I realize that I’m standing next to a woman that my mother once saw as a friend. I can see the cracks in Dr. Belmont’s icy exterior, and I can see little glimpses of why she might have built it up to begin with.
“Your mother showed me how to do this once,” Dr. Belmont says softly. “I was never very good at it…but I have an inkling that you might be.” She turns the rose over in her hand, then folds her fingers over the petals. “Magic requires energy, Rory. Always. It’s something you should keep in mind any time you attempt to use your powers—there’s always a price.”
“That would explain why I’ve been so fucking tired lately.”
“You should take better care of yourself. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Dr. Belmont’s smile is coy again. “Your guardians might be able to help with that, if you’re willing to let them in.”
I think back to the desire that I always feel around Xander and Nico—even when I’m pissed off or annoyed at them. Like I want to rip all their clothes off, feel their lips on my neck and their skin against mine—and more, too.
I’m not an idiot.
I catch Dr. Belmont’s drift.
“Magic requires energy,” I affirm, shaking off the awkward feeling of having one of my mother’s ex-besties suggest I might need to get laid. “Got it.”
“You don’t always have to draw on your own reserves, though. There’s energy in everything—and everyone, for that matter. Your Nico, for example…”
“Feeds off of people’s emotions, right?” No wonder Xander calls him a vampire.
“Exactly. It’s not exactly polite…” Dr. Belmont shrugs. “But it will do in a pinch. Some magic requires more energy than others, though. It was a pet interest of your mother’s—she was always looking to do bigger things than her own energies could sustain.”
“So she performed…rituals?” The image of my mother lying dead in the center of the pentacle in her workshop flashes through my mind. “Seems dangerous.”
“It’s all about directing the flow of energy. Finding veins of it that you can tap into. You don’t always need all the smoke and mirrors to find fuel for your fire, though. For example…”
Dr. Belmont holds her hand up over the field of roses, still holding the rose in her hand. She closes her eyes, and suddenly the night is lit red.
A flow of crimson light passes from Dr. Belmont’s hand through the air over the field, glowing light neon and crackling with heat.
“Holy shit,” I say, because, well…holy shit.
“Try it,” Dr. Belmont tells me, so I hold out my hand.
I feel the soft petals of the rose beneath my fingers, part velvet, part silk. When I close my eyes, I can feel the life still in it. The energy. And when I reach out with my magic to touch it…
I can see the light of my magic even before I open my eyes.
For the first time, I can feel my power. It doesn’t flow as brightly as Dr. Belmont’s, or as far, and it burns out faster than I expect. But there before me, illuminating the fields of roses as far as I can see, my magic exists. It’s real. Visible. Hot and intense and beautiful.
“Holy shit,” I say again as it fizzles out.
“Holy shit indeed,” Dr. Belmont agrees.
My hand feels strange when it’s gone, though. Chalky, dirty, almost charred. When I unfold my fingers, I realize why. The silken petals of the rose have turned ash and dust.
“Can…Can I turn it back?” I let out a little laugh, because I know how silly I must sound. “I killed it. That feels…bad.”
Dr. Belmont shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Rory…but I’m afraid not. What’s dead stays dead. Magic can’t fix that.”
She opens her hand to the breeze and lets the remains of the rose blow away on the wind. Touched by regret, I do the same.
“You did well tonight, Rory,” Dr. Belmont tells me once we’re back in front of the dorm. “I’m proud of you.”
I’m proud of me too, I realize. Not only did I successfully use what Nico taught me—I also learned something new. And out of all of it, I think I can sleep a little more soundly tonight knowing that Dr. Belmont has a human side to her too—that she’s not just a heartless bitch here to make my life fucking hell.
In fact, I’m so proud of myself that I almost miss what she says next.
“The Warden will be pleased with your progress when he comes back.”
And just like that, the connection I have to Dr. Belmont snaps.
“He—I didn’t think—”
“Neither did I.” Dr. Belmont’s voice is detached and cold again. “But after he heard that there are two witches here at Aisling, and that one of them is so exemplary…”
“Two? What about Cassandra?”
If there’s regret in Dr. Belmont’s eyes, it’s too dark out now to see it.
“The Regime doesn’t offer help to those who don’t help themselves.”
And this time when she says it, I know exactly what she means.
I have to endure a smug, knowing look from the maid when I ask her where Xander sleeps, but it’s the price I have to pay for directions to his room.
When I get there, I don’t even bother knocking. He’s my soul mate, allegedly, after all. I
take the liberty of letting myself in.
I catch him shirtless, lounging in bed with a book.
“Rory?” His eyes pass over me quickly, and he doesn’t make the same mistake the maid did. This is no midnight booty call—this is life or death. “What’s wrong?”
“The Warden is coming back,” I tell him, “and I’m rescuing Cassandra from Eastwatch.”
He processes both of these things independently and doesn’t seem to be happy about either of them.
“I can’t let you do that, Rory.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t stop me either. So are you in, or are you out?”
Xander sighs, rises from the bed and grabs his shirt from the desk.
“Come on, then. We don’t have much time.”
14
Drew
The voices are hushed as they come down the hall, closer and closer, until they seem to stop at my door. It sounds like an argument, though I can’t hear what they’re saying. But the tone is clear enough.
And one of those voices is Rory’s.
The other? The fucking skinwalker.
I swear that man has been a thorn in my side from day one. And I wish that day one happened to be the day he showed up on Rory’s doorstep with her unconscious body in his arms. God, how I wish that were the truth.
I don’t want to go there right now, though. It’s bad enough that they’re together right outside my door.
Standing and flinging the door open, I find them face to face, squared off almost. The tension is practically oozing off the smug bastard in waves. And Rory? She looks like the little spitfire she is. A tiny little thing that’s ready to unleash her force on anyone who stands in her way.
They both jump as the door flies open, as if they’re surprised to find me here, even though they obviously didn’t just stop in front of my room for no reason.
“Drew,” Rory breathes, her expression softening somewhat as she turns to face me.
Call me petty, but I take more than a little satisfaction in the fact that Commander North sees it too and gives me a hard stare. Yeah, dude doesn’t like me any more than I like him.
Crimson Kisses: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Marked Souls Book 1) Page 12
